


When They First Met

by Linky



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Romance, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linky/pseuds/Linky





	When They First Met

_Shepard remembered when they first met. He’d made her feel like an overgrown, bumbling child – all bulk and noise. How strange it had seemed to her, how different the man was beneath the façade. It was hard to think he was the same man at all._

 

           “Well…” Garrus began, before allowing his voice to trail into silence, sparing Shepard a glance. Her head was cocked to the side, brows pulled together as she tried to piece together the information she had just been handed. Quietly, Samara regarded the scene before with a carefully blank expression. Shepard didn’t spare a moment to wonder if this went so strictly against the Justicar’s code, she might just blast them all bioticaly through the window. That’s what Shepard would do, if the roles were reversed. The object of their speculation was a Drell, clad all in black, with his back turned to them. He’d dropped out of the ceiling like an anchor tossed over the side of a boat, but landed as though the floor was marshmallow. So far, he hadn’t said a word, or even bothered to acknowledge the presence of the three people giving him baffled looks.

            “Is it just me,” Shepard leant in towards Garrus, eyes still watching the praying Drell, “or is he wearing a little more leather than is reasonable?” before Garrus had a moment to respond, she pursed her lips and continued, “Actually, never mind. He’s working it.” They slipped back into silence, waiting for someone to speak. When it became apparent that neither Shepard nor this assassin was going to be the one to do it, Garrus cleared his throat and volunteered himself for the job.

            “That was impressive.” He offered and was met with nothing. Giving Shepard a helpless look, he tried to indicate with his head that she should do something dramatic to get his attention. She was good at drama. When he saw her step forward, he prepared himself for something spectacular. She was going to tackle the Drell to the ground, or whip out her gun and force some answers out of him. Maybe she would even do karate? Did Shepard know martial arts? Probably.

            “I was hoping to speak with you.” He tried not to, but Garrus might have made faint deflating balloon sounds. She never did something crazy when you wanted her to.

            “I’m sorry, prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken.” Shepard glanced at the dead Asari, her hands folded peacefully against her chest. With a shrug, she bent her head and joined him. What could it hurt?

            “Shepard, are you seri-?”

            “Shh!” She flapped a hand at him, “We are _praying_ Garrus.” He looked to Samara for support, but found her nodding in agreement, hands clasped quietly before her. While their heads were bent, Shepard stole a few glances at the prone assassin, taking note of any visible weapons and measuring how long it would take her to draw her gun should he decide to get tricky. As far as she could tell, he was handsome. She had no idea how his appearance would be rated by other Drell, but there was something alluring in the way he moved. Like danger and grace, all tied up in one leather-clad package. Actually, she didn’t want to think about his leather-clad package. Much.

            “The measure of an individual can be difficult to discern based on action alone.” He spoke suddenly, looking up sharply. He began to pace like a panther, a confident swagger in his every step, “All this destruction. Chaos. I was curious to see how far you would go to find me.” Shepard couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved, becoming more aware of an itch beneath her armour the longer his black-as-the-void eyes watched her. Then he stopped moving, standing unnaturally still. Their eyes trailed him almost as though they were enraptured, it was near jarring when his movements ceased. It was obvious who commanded the room, and it was not the commander.

            “Well. Here I am.”

 

_Thane remembered when they’d first met. There was a pulse in his wrist that wouldn’t stop twitching. His palms were sweating. Why did she chase him? Why did he find it so thrilling? She said very little to him, only watching him with an expectant silence. He didn’t know what she wanted. He did know why he wanted to give it to her._

            “How did you know I was coming?” She demanded from him, gun resting leisurely across her shoulders as though it were a stole and not a deadly weapon. Thane thought furiously. Because he had a feeling? No. Because he sensed her presence? Garbage. The longer he went without responding, the deeper the line between her furrowed brows grew. Her fingers twitched, dangerously close to the trigger. He didn’t doubt she would shoot him. He watched her push a man through a window for not answering her questions. The room was full of windows. His pacing began again, trying to be at least a moving target if she did tire of his stalling. Her lips pressed together, eyes tracking him with a lethal precision.

            “I didn’t.” Thane settled for the truth, “Not until you marched in the front door and started shooting.” He almost hadn’t believed what he was seeing. Three soldiers, common or not, marched in and eliminated with a fierce efficiency all obstacles in their way. Almost an entire mercenary band, dead. Before his eyes, he watched this woman run through a mini warzone and swing one fatal punch after the other. What living creature could walk through a war, emerging unmarked at the other end? Arashu must have come for him at last, he thought. It was not terror, though the thrill of the sight made his heart beat frantically. When the fighting had stopped, he moved on. But not before he glimpsed this goddess’ face. She was scarred. She was terrifying. For a moment he believed she must have seen him, there was a gleam in her eye that said she knew many things; that said she knew him perfectly.

            She had fought her way through whatever Nasanna how thrown at her, and still reached the target before him. Incredible.

            “You proved a valuable distraction.” Thane continued, hands behind his back, toying with throwing knives hidden up his sleeve. The goddess didn’t bat an eye, but he saw a brow twitch. She was not impressed with him at all. Odd how disappointing that felt.

            “You used me so you could kill her?” She nodded her head towards the dead Nasanna. Was she angry? Thane thought she might have been. He didn’t know why. But it mattered. He wanted to understand.

            “You kept her hired forces occupied. And you needed to speak with me. You certainly fulfilled your end of the bargain. What would you like to discuss?” Some form of silent communication passed between her and her squad mates. Suddenly, guns were holstered and hands were being shaken. She smiled at him then. He thought he would forget how to breathe. Her smile spoke of fighting and winning. It offered redemption.


End file.
